Have Chulent Will Travel (from th OU website)
Rabbi Yakov Blugrond’s kashrut inspections take him to exotic spots across the globe. In over a decade of traveling for the OU, he’s been just about everywhere but Mars, ...A Rabbinic Field Representative doesn’t have to venture into outer space for an interesting encounter. It could happen as close as…Turkey. I’ll let the transcontinental rabbi take it from here.
I traveled to Istanbul to supervise a large company with various production sites. One of them stood at the border of Turkey, Iran, and Iraq. Since I knew I was going to have to stay over Shabbat, I found a hotel in close enough proximity to a Sephardi shul. I came to Turkey with the normal operational equipment for a long distance mashgiach – a small piece of meat, a little crock pot, a few frozen challot, a box of matzot, and a jar of gefilte fish. I requested a hotel room on the lowest floor possible, so that I wouldn’t have to climb too many flights on Shabbat. I also made sure they disconnected the electricity from my hotel room door so that I could open it with a key rather than a card. Before I left for work on Friday morning, I put up my chulent. My Shabbat in Istanbul was set.
On Shabbat morning, as I walked through the lobby, I noticed a fellow wearing a yarmulke. I wished him “Shabbat Shalom” and “Shalom aleichem” We exchanged our reasons for being in Turkey. Turned out he’s an American physician who came to deliver a series of lectures at a university here. I asked my new acquaintance if he wanted to join me on my walk to shul. He gratefully acquiesced, saying he wasn’t aware there were any shuls in the area. I asked him what he planned to eat for the Shabbat. He said he had a can of tuna and some matzot. I told him to forget the tuna and come to my room after davening for some hot chulent. He couldn’t believe it.
As we walked towards the exit, the receptionist called out to us saying the hotel manager requested a word with me. I entered the manager’s office, curious as to what he wanted. “I feel uncomfortable telling you this, but the maids are reporting a scent of something cooking coming from your hotel room,” said the manager. I explained that it’s the Sabbath day and we aren’t allowed to cook, so on Friday I prepared a special traditional food made of meat, barley, beans and potatoes. Telling him that this is what we eat for lunch. “Oh, you mean you made chamin! Why didn’t you tell me? I would have gotten you the food.” The hotel manager was a Sephardi born in Istanbul. His family found themselves in Turkey the same way my family wound up in Holland at the end of the 15th century after their expulsion from Spain. I said, I’ll tell you what – at 1:00 we’re eating in my room. Come join us.
He came, bringing with him a few bottles of beer. The three of us had our seudat Shabbat. We sang Israeli zemiros, regular zemiros, Sephardi zemiros. We had a mizumim to bentch. We spent the time enjoying our hotel room #205 Shabbat together until it was time to go for mincha. The manager came too.
The hotel gave me the royal treatment for the rest of my stay. As our time there drew to a close, the doctor from America bid me a warm farewell, and we each went our separate ways. I felt happy to have shared an unexpected Shabbat – enhanced by the company of my fellow Jewish travelers.
